jar of hearts

When I was in my first semester of first year a bunch of us landed in a Bible study group with a former schoolmate of mine. She was kind enough to break my idealistic view of the education system early enough, for which I’m eternally grateful. Otherwise, I would have been sore disappointed with the Kenyan public university system. But she also told us something else I’ve never forgotten. She said, “Don’t ever squander any young man’s money; you’ll have sons one day”. Well, I had already been given ‘the talk’ about campus boys, what I hadn’t been told I saw within two weeks of being in campus (my roommate then was REALLY sweet and pretty, as everyone noticed, me, well… I have that face that needs to keep smiling or else… ;)))). 

I’m a bit of an introvert, I don’t take to novelty easily, especially new people. Hence some people think I’m really quiet, others know me as chatterbox Joy. Anyhow, even when I was a teenager, I was always so scared of well, boys – all boys. Not because they want ‘one thing’, back then I didn’t even know about this ‘thing’. But I was afraid of anyone ever mistaking my attention and infectious affection for anything other than what it was. When a boy came along, I was quick to say no, coz I always  wanted to marry my first boyfriend, and that high school chap was soooooo not it. So why go for that date, why should I waste his money (his mother’s money), and yet I wasn’t going to give him what he wants.

I was so young then, so naive, so unschooled and unexposed. No one had ever told me any of this stuff; don’t even know where I came up with it, God just worked overtime on my behalf before I even knew what He was up to. But I still live by those rules I made for myself as a girl, because now I have the understanding. I’m responsible for every heart I break, I’m responsible for every ambiguous message I give. That boy has a Father to whom I will answer. I have a Father to whom I will answer for how I watched over His daughter. One day I may have sons, and they will do some searching before they find a wife, if I bleed him dry now, yet I know we’re not headed anywhere, my sons may be the ones who take the fall for it. As a result, I haven’t been on too many dates… sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes I don’t think it is. Maybe if I was a bit more ‘out there’ I’d… Sigh!!

Right now on replay is Christina Perri’s Jar of Hearts:

And who do you think you are?
Runnin' 'round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
And tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
So don't come back for me
Who do you think you are?

I like that ‘running around leaving scars’ part, ain’t that what we do now? Breaking hearts upon hearts for that momentary high? How many hearts have we got in our jars? I know I have some; I have not been too faithful to 16 year old me… We have so much trivialized relationships, and the responsibility that comes with them… Nine year old girls are in love, and their parents think it’s ‘cute’ and everyone goes, ‘Aaaawwww!!!’ Is it a wonder girls in primary school are having sex now? What is this world my children will come into? 

When my mum was in Form 1 she got a letter from a boy in our brother school. She cried!!! Real tears!! She was so distraught, why would he write me such a letter?!  So, I didn’t see the letter, but I don’t think this boy wrote any derogatory things, just the normal ‘I can’t sleep thinking about you’, we know them, those letters. We wrote them or got them. But I envy that innocence, maybe it isn’t all good, but we’re raising a generation of adult children. Between civilization – the Internet, social networks, telly and novels – the result is babies trying to carry the emotional weight of an adult. and then when we become adults, we're still babies. But we don’t listen; we want to make all the mistakes ourselves, coz our folks don’t know what they’re saying.

Can you honestly get your heart broken thrice, even just once, and go into another relationship whole? I won’t even talk about ‘chips funga’. A lady came one Sunday and told us “Marriage is not for children”. Every heart in your jar will affect your marriage, every meaningless fling, every friends-with-benefit, every relationship that didn’t work. This guy, Richard Cohen, wrote for the Washington Post years back about this open marriage couple (quoted by Chuck Swindoll):

Open Marriage… Broken Marriage

“There were these couples I know. They were open. They were honest. They were having affairs. They were not sneaking around (applause), they were not lying (applause), they were being honest (whistles). Everyone agreed that it was wonderful. The men agreed and the women agreed and I agreed and it all made you wonder.

Then they split. There was something wrong. Invariably someone couldn't take it. It had nothing to do with the head. The head understood. It was the heart; it was - you should pardon the expression - broken.

It all made you think. It made you think that maybe there are things we still don't know about men and women and maybe before we spit in the eye of tradition we ought to know what we're doing. I have some theories and one of them is that one of the ways you measure love is not with words, but with actions, with commitment, with what you are willing to give up, with what you are willing to share with no one else.”

Are we experts on the human psyche? Do some of us know more about human beings the rest of humanity doesn't? Do we know what we are doing? God, forgive my ignorance… forgive my ignorance…

Who do you think you are, running around leaving scars,

Collecting your jar of hearts, tearing love apart…

some time later

I forgot how to write. So much happening, so much change, not enough time to process. It’s a new morning, I’m listening to Rigga's album - The Awakening, he sings that stuff I hate – hip-hop, rap – but I’m listening to him because of the depth of the message he preaches. I’d love for it to be uhmm… much much less noisy, but his stuff is deep.

My woes began six months ago (it’s been that long already?), and as it has been from times past, it began with a boy. Unlike my brother, ours wasn’t a match made in heaven, but he made me laugh, and then he made me cry, and I cried for the rest of the year last year. For my truth all I got were lies, for my kindness all I received was manipulation. I know I’m too idealistic, I believe in the goodness of mankind too much. I also know the world is a cruel place where each one looks out for themselves, but the church too? Isn’t church the place we go to escape all that treachery? Isn’t church the place we go to lay ourselves bare before our peers, and try to walk the walk together? But the church too has become a stage, a place where they go to get the good ones. A place where you get the right profile for yourself, so that no one will doubt your story, you’re the perfect person. You’re born again. You’re even an official. You’re beyond reproach, your weaknesses are covered. No one can say anything against you. If they do, a thousand more will defend you. It’s a good place to be. Until the walls fall, and sooner or later, all walls fall.

Through all this I struggled with going to church, any church. How can do this to a God I love so much? How do I go back and fix what cannot be fixed? How do I stand before people and raise my hands to a God whose grace and mercy I find impossible to understand, hence accept? That just like that that, I confess my sin before Him, leave my sin, and just like that He forgets my sin. How? How can He say He forgets my sin, when as David says, my sin is ever before me? And I mean ever. How can He love me, after I spat on His face, took His blood for granted and destroyed the body that He paid the ultimate price for? So I went to church because it was easier not to have that discussion with anyone, and I looked around at those people who I knew since I was like zero, those people who taught me in Sunday school. Would they understand? Would their arms still be open when they realized she was not so perfect?

 And all the growing up I hadn’t done in the last since I reached puberty, I did in less than two months. The first thing I wanted to do was run to my blog and post Ntozake Shange’s poem here, “One thing I don’t need is sorry”. At the New Year I thought about a happy New Year post, but I had nothing to report, it was just another year to live, far as I was concerned. I shut everyone out; I sat in my room, cried all night and slept all day. I was only too relieved to come back to school, here I didn’t have to make small talk and pretend it was all right. Because it wasn’t all right. It wasn’t right at all.

I’d love to say there was a turning point, there was a moment of truth when it all got better, or I got angry and decided to let all the anger and guilt go, when I decided I won’t be captive to all that fear and helplessness. Maybe it was the diligent prayers of people like Dinah, and my mother. But the truth is, every day I wake up, it’s grace. Every time I lift my hands up to worship it’s grace. When I pray, when I go to church, all grace. Because I still don’t understand it, I still don’t understand what all that love is like, why it’s being poured out on a wretch like me. But if my father still loves me, if after everything he still said, “You are my daughter”, then how much more my heavenly Father? So I’m still here, I still try, and thank you Lord, by His grace, it gets easier.

the not-so-good days

Everyone thinks we make mistakes when we are young, but i don't think we make any fewer when we're grown up

~Jodi Picoult~

It's getting to that point when I'm realising I'm not as grown up as I thought I was... Apparently stupid decisions are not the reserve of children... well said Jodi, well said, that. I am of the opinion that everyone has a wild side they wish they had the courage to follow wherever... For a few weeks I forgot everything and went along with mine... 

I'm sitting on my bed, this cold November evening, exhausted, today was such a long day... two mammoth papers and one more tomorrow morning, sneezing every minute or so from the flu, and just feeling low-down all round... When I was in high school, someone once told me that sometimes when you are so down you can't pray, God raises up people to pray for you on your behalf... And I just feel like that, you know... I feel like "God, what do I even say?" I'm thinking of Kirk Franklin's song, Hold me now, I'm thinking of Still, MaryMary... Of Bebo Norman's So Afraid... i feel like this is it, Lord, You hold me or I fall, this is it...

Where do you run away from the past, where do you run away from the future? I feel like I'm on one long roller-coaster ride, and I just want it to be over... I don't know what lies ahead, sure the challenges grow with age... but i just want this constant nagging headache to be over... I know I made a couple of wrong turns, but is anything so big it cannot be forgiven? i just want this to end, i want it all to be over...

I am so afraid, that I'll find myself alone,

Looking for a Saviour, looking for a home,

I am so afraid, that I'll find myself alone,

Deep into the edges, deep into the foam

So don't leave me here alone, 

Don't leave me here alone...

~Bebo Norman~

#NowPlaying: Enya - Only Time, the next best thing after silence...

My Starry Nights

Friend of mine wrote this poem last year, one of the few true poets I've had the pleasure of interacting with. In recent days, I've found myself reading and reading this poem, for it's beautiful pictures, but more for how adequately it describes what's in my heart.

Every starry night

When the night is clearer than most

I take a glimpse inside

Assess the depths of my heart

When the night breeze blows gentle

And the sky seems to smile

I stretch out from within my depths

And seek that my heart should find an outlet 

Then every starry night

With every single glance inside

I am reminded of the rot within

I am reminded of the concealed wretch.

The crickets fill the night with the songs of their chirping

The stars hear and twinkle in response

The wind skillfully blows out a whistle

And the trees shake their leaves in gleeful dance

My heart hears, my heart sees, my heart feels

Then my heart breaks, it melts to pure flow

For my armorless heart is beaten, stretched to its ends

The raging battles of light and dark left it in shear turmoil

I cry to the Author of this simple peaceful starry night

That its harmonious patterns;

He may instill in the elements of my shambled heart.

Daggy Odipo

yes Sir, i'm fine

Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.

Another poem we did back in high school was one called ‘Yes sir, I’m fine’. Something about the gap between the rich and the poor, it was quite satirical, no one’s put it up on the net yet, and I can’t find it right now, I would. So anyway, guy talks about how his boss just had a four course meal, and his car’s a Mercedes Benz etc etc, while he didn’t have any lunch and depends on old worn-out feet to transport him, then he says, ‘But sir, I’m fine’. However I digress.

It’s been a rough couple of days, truth be told, the worst there have been in a long time. But this Saturday evening, as I sit in my bed (which bed I have been in all day), I think, “Yes Sir, I’m fine!” Not because my troubles have miraculously vanished, and the gnawing pain that lodged in my chest all through is gone… the truth about broken hearts is that only time can truly heal… But what started as a bad day is now better, thank God. I know still there will be a few more bad days, a few more tears, a few more lying-in-bed-all-day days, a few more what-was-I-thinking's… But I’m fine. As sure as my Redeemer liveth, I know I will be alright, and though I can’t possibly see how He could right  now, He is working for me behind the scenes, He is lifting away the burdens, and the loads I have clung to even though I couldn’t bear their weight… He is taking all my mourning, He is turning it into dancing, and one day, one day I will stand up before a crowd, and say, “Come magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together…that which the devil meant for my destruction, He has turned into a song...”

My prayer tonight, every word in the 38^th Psalm:

 ¹O Lord, rebuke me not in Thy wrath: neither chasten me in Thy hot displeasure.

 ²For Thine arrows stick fast in me, and Thy hand presseth me sore.

 ³There is no soundness in my flesh because of Thine anger; neither is there any rest in my bones because of my sin.

 ⁴For mine iniquities are gone over mine head: as an heavy burden they are too heavy for me.

 ⁵My wounds stink and are corrupt because of my foolishness.

 ⁶I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long.

 ⁷For my loins are filled with a loathsome disease: and there is no soundness in my flesh.

 ⁸I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.

 ⁹Lord, all my desire is before Thee; and my groaning is not hid from Thee.

 ¹⁰My heart panteth, my strength faileth me: as for the light of mine eyes, it also is gone from me.

 ¹⁵For in thee, O LORD, do I hope: thou wilt hear, O Lord my God.

 ¹⁶For I said, Hear me, lest otherwise they should rejoice over me: when my foot slippeth, they magnify themselves against me.

 ¹⁷For I am ready to halt, and my sorrow is continually before me.

 ¹⁸For I will declare mine iniquity; I will be sorry for my sin.

 ²¹Forsake me not, O LORD: O my God, be not far from me.

 ²²Make haste to help me, O Lord my salvation.

 Forgive me, Lord... forgive me...